Admitting the Truth
by cb mcwhorter
Summary: The Marriage Law had to go. Did their marriage have to go as well?
1. Chapter 1

THE DAY HE ADMITTED THE TRUTH TO HIMSELF

When he woke up, there were fingers on his belly, the palm wrapped around the sharp point of his hipbone. She was asleep, still, with her hand on his hip. Had she touched him in their sleep before and he'd never known? She'd never turned him away since their forced marriage. She even seemed to enjoy their couplings, something he found unfathomable. Most women found him too ugly to consider such a thing. But she, who had every right to curl her lip in disgust, never even frowned at him, and she always came to his arms when he turned to her at night.

It made no sense to him. He had found her company to be far more pleasant than he'd expected. All he remembered before their marriage was the girlish ways of an eager swot, desperate to earn her place in this world. That was years ago. This poised and passionate young woman was far more than he deserved. She seemed to enjoy his company, as well. She answered his snarky comments with witticisms of her own that made him want to laugh out loud (of course, he never did).

He was aware of his anxiety about doing something to change that. In the beginning, he had snarled at her once or twice, only to have her zing right back with as good, or better, as she got. She always seemed composed, but he sensed the hurt beneath, and it made him hate himself. Again. It wasn't long until he tried to keep his sharp tongue away from her, although more often than not, he heard her choke back a laugh when he snarked at someone else.

He made sure never to approach her for intimacy until after they were in bed. He'd never approached her in the morning. And he desperately wanted to make love to the woman who slept with her hand on him. Did he dare?

He rolled onto his side, and her hand slid to the sheet. Tentatively, he covered it with his own, and her fingers twined with his at once. She was awake. She had to be.

Summoning his courage, he rolled himself on top of her, carefully watching her eyes open, waiting for what? Alarm? Irritation?

She smiled slowly as she arched into him, lazily spreading her legs until he was settled between and he could stroke along the warmth in her folds. She hummed and ran her hands down his ribs.

"G'morning," she mumbled.

"Just like that," he marveled aloud before he could stop himself.

"Just like what?" she said.

He'd have moved away if her hands hadn't swarmed over his buttocks, pulling him closer. "You accept me, just like that."

Her smile was indulgent. "Of course, silly. You're my husband." Before he could develop his cynicism – she felt obligated? – she'd managed to squirm beneath him so that he was poised at her entrance. "We get to do this," she went on. "Married people are allowed to do this whenever they want. And it's lovely." That last word trailed into a gasp as he took the entrance and seated himself exactly where she seemed to want him. He gazed at her flushed face until she wrapped her legs around his ribs and rocked against him, mewling impatiently. This was what he started this for, after all. He'd wondered if she'd accept overtures in the morning, and it seemed she not only accepted, but welcomed them. That had never happened to him before.

Morning light filtered through the sheers she'd put in the windows. He could see her face, and as he finally moved the way he'd learned she liked, he savored her abandon. Yes, 'lovely' was a very good word, although sometimes, not good enough. He watched her fly away and followed her into bliss himself, to find her smiling at him when he finally opened his eyes. "You're amazing," she said.

He propped himself on his elbows above her and kissed her. Some perverse djinn in the back of his mind prompted him to tempt fate: "And what in your vast experience makes you think so?"

"What? This could be better?" She punctuated her indignation with a pelvic squeeze that thrilled his almost-softened member, and he was immediately contrite.

"No," he said seriously. "I really don't think it could be."

"Does my lack of vast experience disappoint you?"

"No. I'm just being perverse. Out of character, I know."

She drew a hand back up his side until she could caress his face. "You know, there are things a girl can learn without having sex with everyone," she said.

"Such as?"

"Such as. A man gives away a lot about what kind of lover he is when he kisses. Gives away a lot of his inner thoughts, you might say."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "Some boys are all take and no give: their kisses are hard, or slobbery or all teeth. They grab onto a girl and maul her to satisfy themselves and clearly don't give a thought to what she likes or not. I mean, he's enjoying it, so of course, she must.

"Some aren't into it at all. They are too sterile in their hearts to connect or they only put up with the kissing to satisfy her "need" for romance before they can get to the, er, main event. And if she's not willing to progress thereto, she's wasting his time.

"I always thought I could pretty well guess what the main event might be like with anyone like that."

The hand slid around to the back of his neck, and she traced feather-like touches there that made him shiver.

"And then there's the man who touched a girl like she was valuable, and kissed her like he was telling her a secret, sharing something precious. That's the man who made my toes curl. That's the kiss I wanted to keep."

He realized he'd forgotten to breathe.

"Kiss me," she pled. "Curl my toes, Severus."

Almost afraid that he'd do it wrong, he kissed her, and felt her body rise against him as if she was trying to blend her skin with his, and she ran a foot down the back of his leg until her toes curled into the hollow of his knee. To his surprise, he was erect again, swelling against her slick walls that quivered as he did so. She moaned against his mouth as he slid within her, and he kissed her and kissed her until they both climaxed again. "I'm not the only amazing one," he gasped.

He rolled off her, pulling her in to rest her head on his shoulder. She sighed. "Maybe more than lovely."

"I think so." Somewhere in the other room, the mantle clock chimed. She covered her ear as he groaned. "We can't escape breakfast," he growled. She wrapped her am around his chest.

"I suppose not," she finally said. As she sat up to retrieve her dressing gown from the end of the bed, he tried to calculate how many hours there were till bedtime. And he admitted to himself that he had fallen in love with his wife.


	2. Chapter 2

THE DAY HE ADMITTED TO THE TRUTH TO SOMEONE ELSE

The Hogwarts faculty sat in a silent row near the front of the chapel, stony-faced and judging.

Lucinda Parsonage's parents sat in the front row, her mother practically catatonic.

The deceased's husband was not present. He was "in the wind" as Hermione called it, pursued doggedly by Aurors who used a tracking spell devised by the ex-Auror who now taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. That ex-Auror slipped her hand into her husband's and her shoulders relaxed when he wrapped his fingers tightly around hers. She pressed her palm tight to his, and he realized, not for the first time, that she did just that every time he took her hand. And she sighed, just a little. Every time.

The minister was at a loss for what to say. He was a Muggle, and he knew that Lucinda was a murder victim, and that her husband was suspected, but he didn't know much more. The Parsonage family had attended this church for generations, and their friends were gathered around them. But he didn't recognize half of the funeral attendants. Some seemed to be friends from out of town, but there were others he couldn't fathom, and he thought himself a good judge of people. They were a strange bunch, some of them oddly dressed, and all of them clearly furious. They all knew more than the parishioners he recognized, perhaps more than the poor girl's parents even knew. The sense of outrage looming over the congregation was stifling.

The minister had heard an oddly dressed man address a young man in glasses. "Potter," he'd said, "do you think the Minister will show?"

The one called Potter scoffed. "He's too much of a coward."

The preacher wondered, and almost interrupted them to ask, but both men seemed distant, and perhaps even faintly nauseated. A bad business, this. He'd buried his fair share of young people, but never a murder victim. The mourners at this funeral were at a boil beneath the surface, and if he thought too hard about it, he'd be afraid that violence would break out. A handful of hard-eyed men who stood, arms crossed, at intervals around the church weren't reassuring. He launched into his least-favorite sermon, the one he gave for young decedents, the one about faith even when there is no understanding, and about forgiveness when forgiveness is least deserved. It didn't go over any better than it usually did.

After the service, the strangers came to bid the parents farewell. A plump lady who had "schoolmarm" written all over her hugged Agatha Parsonage. "She was my favorite student," she sniffled.

"She loved your classes, Professor Sprout," said Trevor Parsonage.

The man named Potter shook the parents' hands. "He will be found," he said firmly. "He will pay."

They grasped his hands. "Make this stop," the bereaved woman said. "Please, Harry, make this stop."

None of the strangers showed up at the reception.

"This law just has to go," said Hermione tightly. They were in Minerva's office, decompressing from the funeral before they had to face the students at dinner.

Minerva passed a teacup to Severus. "You look like you have a plan."

Severus took the cup and eyed his wife warily. She did, indeed, look as if she was scheming. Sometimes that was a very good thing. Other times, it was dangerous.

Hermione shrugged. "I've thought of a plan, but it would take risky action on someone's part other than mine. So I think I need to look elsewhere."

"And what plan was that?" He was almost afraid of her answer.

She shook her head. "Not worth airing."

Minerva pressed. "Try us."

Hermione sighed. "What if, when Muggleborn families are visited about Hogwarts, the girls' parents are given information about other schools instead?"

The room pondered that for a moment.

"So only Muggleborn boys wound up at Hogwarts?" asked Flitwick.

"How long would it take the powers that be to realize that the redirection of female students was coming from Hogwarts itself?" asked Pomona Sprout. "That is a risk."

"I think it's too soon," Severus said. "The girls would still come home to visit, or after graduation, to live. They would be vulnerable to the law as adults, not children."

"What if we made a point of placing female graduates in jobs or apprenticeships outside of England?" said Flitwick.

"The Ministry would pick that up pretty quickly," mused Hermione.

"Maybe not so quickly. Last year, I had two Muggleborns find foreign apprenticeships on their own," said Pomona.

"I have at least three looking now," said Flitwick. "Two of them girls."

"There's been no reaction so far," said Minerva.

"But they have to plan to stay expatriated for the duration," said Severus.

"I'm surprised there isn't a failsafe written into the law for that eventuality," Filius mused.

"They were so nauseatingly proud of themselves when they published the thing, I wouldn't be surprised if it never dawned on them that people would resist the idea."

Minerva rose to walk to her desk. "I needn't remind you that the panel that formulated the law was all male. And half of them single." She rummaged through a file drawer. "Ah, here the filthy thing is." She held up her copy of the Marriage Law.

As Minerva sat at the desk to skim the parchment, Hermione continued: "I've also thought of pulling together the Muggleborn parents. Just because they aren't familiar with our community doesn't mean they can't have ideas."

"How could you do that without getting into trouble yourself?" said Pomona.

Severus' wand vibrated. He aimed it at the office door and muttered "Communicare".

"Professor Snape?" a young voice said.

Grumbling, Severus rose. "If you'll excuse me, duty calls. I hope to return." He crossed to the fireplace and disappeared through the Floo.

"I actually sent out a confidential owl to every Marriage Law Bride," said Hermione.

"That's a lot," said Pomona.

"It is. The Hogwarts owls are a little cross with me. I've tried to make it up to them with lots of fresh sardines."

"And what were these owls about?" said Minerva.

"It was a short questionnaire: Is the lady happy with her Ministry-appointed match? If she could get out, even after having borne a child, would she choose to?"

"When do you expect an answer?" asked Filius.

"I have more than 90% of them, which for questionnaire return is phenomenal."

"And?"

"Of the new mothers, 75% said they would take their babies and leave. 12% didn't know. The rest said they would stay, perhaps only until the child was in Hogwarts but most of them said they would have no more children by these husbands."

"What about the rest?"

"I know of only one Marriage Law bride who would stay with her Ministry-appointed husband."

"Goodness! Who was that?" exclaimed Minerva.

Hermione blushed. "Me. If he wanted it."

The others stared at her with varying degrees of fondness. "I think he would," murmured Pomona.

"What I'd really love to see," spoke up Septima Vector from her corner of the couch, "is the formulae they used to calculate the marriage "compatibilities". Because, frankly, I don't think they were very well-calculated."

Hermione nodded. "Severus and I have often wondered if our pairing was meant to be punitive. Probably to me. I was sent four names, three of them suspected Riddle sympathizers. I don't know whether the Committee thought I wouldn't be able to determine that, as an Auror. This list was a joke."

"If you ask me, the joke backfired," Filius declared.

Hermione blushed again. "I think so. We actually are rather well-matched."

"You're both, shall we say, highly intellectually inclined," said Septima.

"You mean we're swots," smiled Hermione.

"Oh, goodness. Who here isn't?" huffed Minerva.

"Yes, well, he was the only one who got my joke about Munro's Solubility Theorem last night," said Hermione.

"That was a joke?" shot Pomona.

After the chuckling died down, Pomona looked at the clock. "I think I'll go freshen up before dinner."

"I should be on my way as well," said Filius.

And so the group dispelled, and Minerva consoled herself that they parted at least after a little bit of levity. No sooner had the door closed behind them than Severus stepped back through the Floo. He looked about in surprise.

"You just missed them," said Minerva, setting aside the parchment. "I kept your tea warm, though."

He took the hint and sat down.

"Hermione told us that she'd sent out a private questionnaire to all the Marriage Law brides," Minerva said.

Severus nodded. "She has been bribing birds all month. I didn't ask what she was pursuing, though."

"Weren't you curious?"

"She generally shares whatever is brewing in that brain of hers when she's ready," he said, smoothly circumventing the fact that he'd been at times ready to burst with questions. It was part of his campaign to avoid offending her, but the restraint had been costly.

"She said that only one person reported that she'd choose to stay with her Ministry-appointed husband, if given the choice."

"Only one?"

Minerva nodded. "She is that one. But only if you wanted it."

He stared at his tea for a moment. "She would?"

"She thinks you are well-matched."

He nodded slowly. "We are," he said softly.

"She said something about you being the only one who laughed at her joke about Munro's Theorem of, er, something."

"Solubility," he automatically supplied. Inwardly, he marveled. She recognized his reaction as a laugh!

"Severus," she said gently.

He met her gaze. "She is happy," she said. "Are you?"

He took a breath. "I think someone at the Committee meant to saddle her with someone awful."

"She doesn't think you are awful." She watched him blush. "Are you happy, my dear?"

He gave a jerky nod.

Smiling to herself, she said "You care for her?"

"Very much," it came easier than he thought it would, admitting this vulnerability.

"Have you told her that?"

He looked up in alarm.

"Severus, tell the girl. Let her off the hook, so to speak. She thinks that if the Law was repealed, you'd choose your freedom."

What an awful thought. "I wouldn't."

Minerva grinned. "I'm so happy for both of you. Now, go tell her."


	3. Chapter 3

THE DAY HE ADMITTED THE TRUTH TO HER

Of course, he didn't do any such thing. To march up to her and announce his love was simply too daunting a plan. He did take her to bed that night early, and made a mission out of thrilling her until she was breathless and boneless. Just as he was.

In the morning, he began wooing his wife. He started by buttering a muffin for her at breakfast, slipping it onto her plate as she poured cream in her coffee.

He invited her to go with him to dinners in Hogsmead. They went on walks on clear days.

Whenever he went to the greenhouses, he returned with a bloom that he left on her desk, or on her pillow.

"You're being awfully sweet to me," she said. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm not sweet," he growled.

She wrapped her arms around him and tucked her head under his chin. "I wouldn't tell anyone," she chuckled.

One Thursday morning, Hermione's mother's owl arrived at breakfast. She tucked the letter into her pocket to read later, but halfway through his first class she arrived at his door, face flushed and eyes wide. She pressed the letter into his hand and whispered, "Meeting in Minerva's office at noon", and she vanished.

It was all he could do to wait till class was over to read that letter. It was a good thing, too, because the children would never recover from the sight of Professor Snape throwing back his head to laugh out loud. He pulled out a bit of parchment and whistled for his owl. He wrote, "Helen, I have no words to express my enormous admiration for you both." Attaching it to the owl's leg, he told her to take it to Hermione's parents. He then allowed himself to panic.

The heads of house met at noon, and as they entered, they were each handed a copy of Helen Granger's note, somewhat abridged.

"Dearest girl,

"I think it only fair to tell you that Dad and I have been busy. We've established a website to unite as many Muggleborn parents as we could find and collected an enormous amount of information. Monday morning, a class action lawsuit will be presented to the Ministry of Magic on behalf of all the parents of Marriage Law brides as well as parents of Muggleborn witches as yet unmarried.

"The suit stipulates that we want an end to the Marriage Law as well as the dissolution of all forced marriages, even those that have produced children. This law violates British law banning forced service, sex trafficking and slavery. Any refusal to comply will result in exposure of the Magical world, with submission of warrants for arrest of parties responsible. They think they are above British law, but they were born in Britain, so they are British subjects.

"Any attempt by the Ministry to coerce or Obliviate any of the parents or our attorneys has been countered by redundancy measures that are already in place: if any one of us is compromised, there will be automatic activation of surrogacy agreements. The lawyers will proceed on our behalf regardless. The attorneys also have fail safes in place. In particular, if they are compromised in any way, there will be automatic publication of the entire story in multiple venues and multiple countries. Needless to say, there's more detail than this. The attorneys are a collection of Squibs and Muggleborns who chose to stay on the Muggle side.

"The Ministry has until Wednesday to respond, and until the first of the month to repeal the Law. We are willing to accept that some couples may not wish to part. They may remarry in normal and civilized fashion, with all the proper securities modern women can expect.

"I am sorry we didn't warn you this was coming. But the poor Parsonage girl was the last straw. Maybe you and Severus can come to dinner this weekend? (This bit was abridged: "We rather hope that you want to stay with Severus. Of course we were alarmed in the beginning, but as we've come to know him, we've come to love him. Stop blushing, Severus dear. You're a good man.")

"Love forever,

"Mum"

Silence reigned.

"Why didn't we consider the legal power of the Muggles themselves to begin with?" marveled Pomona.

"I think we've felt it our job to protect them, since it was our kind who made the mess," said Minerva.

"What should we do over the weekend?" Filius asked.

"Is Hermione the only Bride to be informed ahead of time?" Severus asked. His wife was holding his hand tightly, and that reassured him enormously. Besides, he already had a Plan of his own.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I asked Mum that in my reply. I also asked them to demand the selection criteria they used to choose pairings. That should be educational." She turned to Severus. "I also said we'd go tomorrow and spend the weekend." She seemed tentative. He squeezed her hand.

"Good," he said.

"I have a suggestion," Hermione said. When they all turned to her, she said "I can send out a confidential message to the others. As you know, I've done it before, and actually, the communication I told you about wasn't the only one. What if I told them that any of them who wanted to come to Hogwarts as a sort of asylum would be welcome? If they got the same notice I did, some may simply go home to their parents. But not all would feel safe doing so."

Minerva nodded. "Do it."

The meeting ended, everyone a little aghast and excited.

Severus turned to Hermione, "Do we have time to take a walk by the Lake?"

"Of course."

They crossed the lawn in silence, holding hands (she sighed), but as they reached the water, and waved back at the Squid, Severus stopped her. "I'd like your permission to do something this weekend."

"What's that?"

"We got rushed into this marriage before you could communicate with your parents, or observe anything close to common traditions. I want us to be free of this Law…" He trailed off, and she realized that his fingers seemed to be shaking. "But I don't want to lose you. Marry me properly, Hermione. Let me ask your father for his blessing. Let your mother take you shopping for a dress. Let me buy you a beautiful ring. Let's get married in a church, with a Muggle marriage license so that when they dissolve this Law, and perhaps dissolve our marriage, we will still be husband and wife."

Tears stood in her eyes. "You really want that?"

"I do." He took a deep breath. "I love you. Marry me."

Her smile was wonderful. "I love you. And I couldn't deny you a little thing like that."

He swept her into his arms and kissed her right there where anyone could see, until they were both lightheaded. As they smiled at each other, a future they had only dreamed of spooled out before them: children who were both brilliant-but-scary enough to cause any spiteful Marriage Committee person reason to regret, a return to Headmastery for him, Griffindor Head of House for her, potions textbooks that completely reconfigured the curricula for Hogwarts and other Schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the formulation of surveillance and tracking techniques that changed the Aurory for decades, grandchildren to spoil. It all started the day he admitted the truth to her.


End file.
